


Hold Me Tight

by highlytrainedfangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, For plot!, M/M, watch me make a non-issue an issue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlytrainedfangirl/pseuds/highlytrainedfangirl
Summary: Sherlock loves cuddling but is too ashamed to admit it because he's scared of being seen as childish





	

Sherlock Holmes had a terrible secret. One that few knew of and one that he was prepared to talk to his grave.  
Sherlock Holmes craved human touch. Specifically he was a cuddler. At first it had been nothing but an annoyance, the longing to wrap his arms around his doctor at every opportunity was less than convenient. It definitely became a problem after months of laying awake at night wishing to feel the man upstairs’ strong arms around him.  
What Sherlock had forgotten to account for, was how much worse this would become once they started dating. Before he’d had excuses, _John isn't mine, it wouldn't be right to do anything._ But together there was no social boundaries restricting them (not that either John or Sherlock had ever paid much notice to social bounds when it came to each other).  
The problem was that, if Sherlock was honest with himself, he was embarrassed. It didn't make sense, but he couldn't help the compulsive need to hide his ‘secret’.

 

Thinking back on his childhood, maybe that was why. When Sherlock was younger he's always found comfort in other’s company. But no matter how hard he tried, other children never felt the same towards him. He was pushed away from other children his own age, fleeing into the protective arms of his parents. Even on occasion Mycroft would lend a brotherly embrace to his broken sibling.  
The older Sherlock became, the more defensive became. He wanted to prove to the world that he wasn't a child, he could fight his battles independently.  
So he pushed away the comforting embraces associated with his childhood. He scorned others for their tender touches, calling them childish and stupid.

 

But now, looking at his dear blogger, he wished he could jut let himself be more open. Sherlock longed to let himself finally find peace. He knew John no longer beloved his ice cold mask, but taking that step back towards his repressed childhood emotions felt more like marathon.

 

The television buzzed idly in the background as the detective sat curled on the sofa. John was sat next to him, laptop balanced on knees, fingers tapping out a steady rhythm. It would be so easy to just lean into the other’s touch. All he had to do was shift slightly so that his head lay on John’s shoulder.  
It was a thought Sherlock had often, constantly resisting the urge to be closer to his partner.  
He knew that once they became a couple, John assumed he had a disliking for physical contact, and honestly who could blame him? Sherlock had spent so long trying to avoid touching John, in a way it was a logical conclusion. Sherlock actually found it endearing that John refrained from contact because he believed that Sherlock was uncomfortable with it.  
How was he supposed to go about saying that it was the complete opposite?

 

Laying in bed next to John, he resisted the ever-present urge to wrap an arm around John, to pull him closer and bury his face deep into the crook of his neck. Every night the same issue, every night the same unwillingness to act.

 

Another exhausting case flew by and Sherlock practically collapsed into the cab. His eyes were determined to weld themselves shut, no matter how hard Sherlock tried to pry them open again. In between five minute long blinks, he noticed his body slipping further and further sideways. Fatigue was the only driving force for his muscles. The next time his eyes opened his head was firmly planted on the doctor’s shoulder. His instinct was to pull away, but then he felt the gentle movement of fingers carting though his hair. He melted into the touch, feeling the warmth radiating through the other man’s jumper. Glancing to the side he noticed they were close to Baker Street and judging from the distance he must have fallen asleep some time in the last ten minutes. How long had John been doing this? Would he stop if he knew Sherlock was awake? John was always so careful around him when he was fully conscious.  
Taking the opportunity to bask in the warmth and comfort, he allowed himself to drift back to sleep for the trip back to the flat.

 

Once they reached home, Sherlock was curious to see if his theory was correct. John may have made an effort to to keep a distance when he knew Sherlock was watching, but maybe he craved physical touch just as much.  
When the two lay in bed Sherlock feigned sleep, regulating his breathing carefully. After ten minutes a hand began lighting running through his hair while another traced absent-minded circles on the back of his hand. As time went on the moments began slower in pace and frequency. Against his better judgment Sherlock leaned his body closer into the touch. John froze. Sensing the man next to him retreating, Sherlock instinctively reached out to wind his arms around the other man’s middle. After a moment of hesitation, John returns the embrace, pulling Sherlock closer to him. Sherlock could feel the shorter man’s face shift as it contorted into a grin. The two lapsed into a comfortable sleep, wrapped up peacefully in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is.  
> I started writing this in October and never found time to finish it. I guess I just sort of feel meh about this fic but figured I might as well post it.


End file.
